Some of the comics at Punchy’s noticed, and a few of the goth kids down the block at The Veil.
The gay men at The RailRoad Crossing worry that she doesn’t eat enough, and the bouncers at Murdoch’s frighten her so badly that she skips their long line altogether, crossing the street, head down, hands trembling.
If you go to any of the Shoretown bars you’ve probably seen her.
The comics and the goth kids were right when they guessed she overcame a crippling shyness to do what she does.
Different scenes have different nicknames for her, some thoughtful, some disdainful.
She only speaks three words-I love you- and occasionally speaks it out of context in response to a question.
Samantha at Punchy’s swears she wished her good luck once, but no one else had ever heard anything but I love you.
If you light up a smoke in Shoretown you’re a candidate for her gift.
She approaches cautiously and reaches into a small tote bag with a fading flower on it. She’ll hand you a card.
You might think you were being handed a flier for an art opening, or maybe some community activity or political action.
She has that look, like a woman who wants to make the water cleaner or save a rare snail being threatened by a condo development.
If you pay attention, you’ll see she only gives them to smokers.
The goth kids in clouds of clove smoke, the guys outside the shuttle buses at The Scoreboard, angrily puffing and discussing coaches who needed to be fired,the auto show models at Lucy’s who blow their own smoke aggressively away from their Vicuna wool sweaters.
The cards are poems.Rudimentary, original rhyming poems.
Cillia, who DJ’s at The Veil sometimes, collects them.
Her first one was
Air is a gift, we should keep it cleaner
When you are smoking
The Earth thinks You’re meaner
Cillia almost discarded it until she noticed it was handwritten in shaky fine point black marker.
Todd at The RailRoad has one of the poems pinned to a corkboard in the office.He offers to buy her dinner when he sees her, but she just smiles and says “I love you.”
Todd’s down to two smokes a day, maybe half a pack on Saturdays.
Ulf, one of the shuttle bus drivers at The Scoreboard really likes it when she says I love you, but she won’t tell him her name and he won’t quit his roll-your-owns.
Some of her poems end up on his shuttle bus floor.
They’re all original. No two alike.
Murdoch’s is busy tonight.
They’re having a benefit for a regular. He had a heart attack.
She has poems in her tote bag about how bad smoking is for your heart, but she’s across the street, her hands trembling.
She’ll cross back over and stop at Punchy’s,where they’ll ask how she’s doing and she’ll say “I love you” then head to The RailRoad Crossing.
They don’t know it in Shoretown, but she’s working up the courage to say I’m fine, thanks when they ask how she is and to say yes when the nice man offers to buy her dinner.
***
Some may think she is strange and a mental case but those that know her look forward to I Love You from her quiet ways. She wants to give more but just can’t. Her cause is all consuming.
Wonderful story, Jimmy!
You've touched on what motivates me not to give up on people.
Thank you.